


Alone

by UnshoddenShipper



Category: The Hobbit - All Media Types
Genre: "pass the butter thorin?", M/M, Non-Consensual Voyeurism, Pining, Sadness, Unrequited Love, but not for thorin, fluff for bilbo and bofur, majestic voyeurism, so what do you do at breakfast the next morning like, spying on your friends, thorin is not a dick in this story, who is currently with fried eggs over his eyes and telling Nori "some folks just can't take a YOLK", you heard this same voice mewling wontonly as it thrashed under bofur, you look bilbo in the eye
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-11-06
Updated: 2014-11-06
Packaged: 2018-02-24 07:29:44
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 2
Words: 1,763
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/2573237
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/UnshoddenShipper/pseuds/UnshoddenShipper
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>((ANCIENT Kink Meme fill I've cleaned up to post here.))</p><p>"They think they managed to find a private spot, but there's still someone watching."</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

[Original Prompt](http://hobbit-kink.livejournal.com/8973.html?thread=19914253#t19914253)

Bilbo/Bofur + voyeur!Thorin

They think they managed to find a private spot, but there's still someone watching. Bilbo on the bottom preferred, if there's penetrative sex, but certainly not a must. Don't care about the particulars of their relationship(s). As long as there's voyeurism, I'm happy.

\----

As the Company slept, Thorin was restless. Erebor was silent as death in her halls, mostly unexplored, and reeked of Dragon. It was because of this they had decided to camp here, in the great open hall overlooking Dale; the mountain’s air was much easier to breathe. And rushing water drowned the morbid emptiness, roaring into the air as a great waterfall. On her marble bank the king sat, smoking.

A sweet sound brought him from his reverie.

Floating over the water’s white noise was Bilbo’s voice. He sat talking with Ori, the present watchman. A lantern flickered beside them as they reclined apart from the others, chuckling low about something or other he couldn’t hear. Thorin felt a corner of his mouth twitch fondly. He watched Ori nudge the hobbit, and Bilbo turn several shades pink while he laughed and said something, something swallowed by the waves. Then unmistakably- "Thorin".

Now what could that be about? With nothing better to do and Mr. Baggins involved, he stood, putting out his pipe. Walking back along the river, hands clasped behind his back, he hoped to appear nonchalant. The king paused just close enough to bring Ori’s voice into focus.

“I’m not surprised at all!” The scribe declared. “He’s had an eye for you the whole journey.”

Thorin started, heart leaping unexpectedly. He walked briskly back whence he came, glanced over his shoulder, and sharply scooted into one of the dark passages. Navigating the blackness confidently- nobody knew this mountain better than he- Thorin approached the pair unseen, guided by the muffled sounds of Bilbo’s response. He peered out from the dark archway feeling foolish, but determined to know more.

Bilbo covered his mouth with his hand, smiling. Ori just cackled.

“He’s a fine dwarf,” Ori continued, “You couldn’t ask for a better match.”

“I know,” the hobbit said happily, straightening. And oh how Bilbo was glowing! Blushing all the way to his pointy ears, peeking from his overgrown hair. He already had braids from the Ri family, and a couple of brother-in-arms. Seeing how Bilbo’s eyes shone with excitement and affection, Thorin felt foolish for waiting as long as he had to approach the burglar and offer his courting braid. He truly hadn’t known how surely Bilbo felt the same!

“Evening, lads,” a third voice chimed in.

“Well, hello, Bofur,” Ori propped his head in his hand, smiling at the miner as he sat down. “Congratulations!”

The miner chuckled and smiled wide enough to split his face. “Thank ye. Couldn’t of been done without the permission of the Ri clan.”

“Did you tell Bombur and Bifur?” Thorin quite loved the way Bilbo sounded when he was intrigued.

“Aye, and it was hard to keep ‘em quiet. Woulda woken the whole Company.”

“When are you going to make the announcement?” Ori asked them. And from his archway, Thorin drew his brow in confusion and apprehension.

Until Bofur shot a glance over his shoulder and looped an arm around the hobbit’s waist. Thorin felt a hot surge of emotion as Bilbo snuggled up to his side like a cat, both beaming.

“When all this has been settled, I think,” Bilbo said. Ori clamped his hands together, muffled by his mitts, and made a hushed noise of pure excitement.

Thorin turned abruptly and kept his back flush to the wall, overwhelmed. His heart coiled and hissed, stung.

He stood there breathing in the dark. How long was unclear, but he didn’t have the time to compose himself before he heard a set of heavy boots approaching his archway.

He retreated back and hid in an alcove just as Bofur entered carrying a lantern. Bilbo was beside him, holding his hand. The pair made their way down the hall quietly, and passed the king’s hiding place without a second glance. Now Thorin faced a dilemma. It was not his way to go lurking about in shadows. Nor was spying on his unsuspecting subjects, his friends. He was _better_ than that. But as he watched their retreating backs, emotion he had felt only once before settled in his chest. It churned through his belly and made him ill, and filled him with desire to rage against something out of his control. His heart staggered and cried out for something dear to him.

It was just how he’d felt when Erebor had been taken away, over a century before.

The king straightened, swallowed, and followed their little orange light.


	2. Chapter 2

Thorin lost track of the pair several times, and several turns, before rounding into a long-abandoned hall of living quarters. The stink of dragon eased immediately, and cool moonlight poured in from a single open door. The night was positively bright, compared to the tunnels. Practically jogging to this, he flattened himself to the wall and peered inside-- to recoil immediately! They stood just before him! He looped his thumbs into his belt and focused on recovering his breath. In, out. Durin’s beard, how his heart pattered. Peeking in again, his eyes roamed over the pair fiddling in a dusty fireplace to the view behind them. The moon was bright enough to read by; she silhouetted Mr. Baggins and the miner. Grey grass rippled like waves along the mountainside and it was, indeed, achingly romantic.

The pair sat on their knees, warming their hands. “There we are! Good and toasty,” The dwarf said cheerfully. And Bilbo was upon him.

Thorin’s jaw dropped as the hobbit practically leapt upon the dwarf, peppering him with kisses. Bofur responded by pulling him forward with hands on his rear, and as Bilbo straddled him, the horridness and reality of the situation fell on Thorin. Here he was- a king, a friend- spying like a snake as the pair hid away for intimacy. An hour ago he had no idea... But damn him if he didn’t wish he took the miner’s place!

He retreated, resting his brow against the cold stone wall. He closed his eyes. Was he really going to do this? Laughter danced to him, and exaggerated smooching sounds. Happy voices. Chatting.

Pauses, full of kisses and touches Thorin had no right to see.

He stayed like that for some time, hating the noises but craving they continue. The hobbit’s voice was sweet, and it made him sick thinking of another drinking it.

A mewling noise drifted in, crooning, and Thorin recognized it with a surge of warmth and coil in his stomach. It was Bilbo.

He inched his way painfully back to look, and met a most horrible, wonderful sight.

On the one hand, Bilbo had shed his outermost layers, with suspenders hanging about his legs and shirt almost off. It exposed his freckled, scarred skin and Thorin felt arousal rush his blood.

On the other, he sat astride a miner’s thighs. With Bofur free of his hat and jackets and any worries in the world. He had laid them out as a blanket, softening and warming the ground. Thorin furrowed his brow. He would have given Bilbo a bed of spun gold and Sapphire embroidering, if he had only the chance.

Buttons were undone with fumbling fingers, as they kissed and ran their hands through hair and down bodies. In a flash, Bofur rolled them over so he had the hobbit on his back and worked Bilbo’s ear with his mouth. Bilbo started laughing, but it quickly became breathy and his eyes closed. Their hips rocked together, Bofur’s trousers half off and Bilbo in his skivvies.

“Can’t have ye getting’ cold,” He rumbled.

They moved together, just like that, and Thorin shakily reached for himself, enraptured by Bilbo’s face. Flushed and smiling, glowing, pleasured. His hands were cold on his erection, but Thorin couldn’t spare a thought to it. The hobbit pushed a bit at Bofur’s shoulders and the miner sat up, Bilbo grinning up at him. The hobbit bit his lip and waggled his eyebrows teasingly, hands somewhere Thorin could not see. But he didn’t have to guess.

Bofur responded by pulling away the cotton veil to Bilbo’s hardness, and with widened eyes and a squeeze Thorin working harder at his own.

With deliberate slowness, the pair dragged skin against skin, and groaned. Thorin could not see his face, but could only imagine what the miner could be feeling, something so precious and warm as Bilbo arching under him, working himself on him.

“Please, Bofur... Oh, oh...”

“Mahal! I’ll give ye anything, just keep talkin’ like that!”

A throaty moan answered, and the king saw Bilbo’s furry toes curl.

“Darlin’,” Bofur uttered brokenly, their hips rolling smoothly. Rocking, rocking. They breathed together. They nuzzled. They got rougher. Bofur lapsed into Khuzdul as they moved faster, voices tumbling higher in volume as their bodies gained momentum.

Thorin knew the words the toymaker groaned and cried out, understood the pleasure. And in that way, he knew the man fucking Bilbo as Bilbo could not.

“Bofur! Bofur!” Thorin sucked a breath with each call, his heart aching, and watched Bilbo panting. The dwarf answered his summons loyally, cupping Bilbo’s cheek with his hand and nuzzling him gently, as if their bodies weren’t rutting into the ground. Bilbo’s fingers dragged down his back and blunt nails left little pink lines as Bofur whispered words hungrily into his ear and Thorin could not hear them.

The hobbit tossed his head back and cried out into the air, arching from the ground, his breath a cloud in the cold moonlight. Mouth hung open, eyes closed in bliss as he gasped and called. Thorin had never seen anything so wonderful, so powerful-- his heart lurching forward, he climaxed with a pained gasp.

“Oh! OH! OHH!”

" _Nakha! Nakha!_ That's it, darlin'!”

Groaning, panting, quaking. And slowly, everything wound down.

The three of them slumped, exhausted.

He slid to the floor. The only thing Thorin could hear was his own heartbeat, slamming against his ribs. His seed was sticky and warm on his cold hand, the smell of sex unmistakable. He stayed that way, alone in the dark, until he heard sleepy voices.

“Do you think Thorin will want to marry us?”

“He seems to ‘ave warmed up to you, doesn’t he? I don’t see why not.”

The king stood, re-laced his trousers with his clean hand, and left.


End file.
